


The Sniff Test

by whoknows



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1685117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknows/pseuds/whoknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pulls the shirt out from its hiding place and holds it up for the sniff test.</p>
<p>It doesn’t pass.</p>
<p>In fact, it fails miserably. It smells so bad that he actually gags and has to toss the shirt back down to the floor. He doesn’t remember what the hell he was doing last night for that shirt to smell that bad, and he’s not entirely sure that he wants to know.</p>
<p>He looks around the room again and his gaze lands on Adam’s bag, sitting on one of the chairs by the window. </p>
<p>“Yeah, okay,” he says to himself and strides over, yanking the bag open and digging through until he finds a suitable shirt, a plain grey one with a v-neck. It’s not his normal style, exactly, but it’ll do until he gets on the bus and into his own clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sniff Test

**Author's Note:**

> So way back in 2010 and possibly 2011 I filled some Adam/Tommy prompts anonymously for various kinkmemes. Now that I have AO3 I decided that I may as well put them all in the same place so I will be uploading them all to this username.
> 
> The prompt this story was written for can be found [here](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/664.html?thread=483736#t483736) and reads:
> 
> Adam/teeny-boys-he-dates, size kink, borrowed clothing  
> Because c'mon, you know he'd go on a caveman kick if he saw any of them wearing (and being swamped in) his clothes.
> 
> As an alternative idea, maybe Tommy stumbles upon this bulletproof kink of Adam's totally by accident. And maybe the whole glamily notices.

Tommy lets out an aggravated sigh and surveys the room once more. How fucking hard is it to find one goddamn shirt? Shit, it shouldn’t be anywhere near this hard, he threw it on the chair yesterday night after he took it off. He _knows_ that he did, so why the fuck isn’t it still there?

It probably has something to do with the hangover pounding at the base of his skull, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the way the dim light in the room is making his brain want to leap out of his head.

He finally spots the shirt wedged halfway underneath the bed and sighs again, but it’s more relief than anything this time. He’s not Isaac, he doesn’t wander around shirtless.

He pulls the shirt out from its hiding place and holds it up for the sniff test.

It doesn’t pass.

In fact, it fails miserably. It smells so bad that he actually gags and has to toss the shirt back down to the floor. He doesn’t remember what the hell he was doing last night for that shirt to smell that bad, and he’s not entirely sure that he wants to know.

He looks around the room again and his gaze lands on Adam’s bag, sitting on one of the chairs by the window. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says to himself and strides over, yanking the bag open and digging through until he finds a suitable shirt, a plain grey one with a v-neck. It’s not his normal style, exactly, but it’ll do until he gets on the bus and into his own clothes.

He grabs his phone and wallet off the nightstand, making sure that the extra keycard is still in there, and heads to the door, barely even conscious of the way that Adam’s shirt fucking _swarms_ him.

 

It doesn’t even occur to him that it’s maybe a little weird until they’re doing sound check and Adam’s eyes keep drifting over to him, like he’s not entirely sure what he’s seeing.

Tommy would say something about it, but he thinks that might make it weirder, so he doesn’t.

Later, when he’s putting on his make-up, Adam’s reflection appears over him in the mirror, looming behind him.

“What’s up?” Tommy asks, capping the eyeliner and putting it back in its spot. Adam’s gaze meets his in the mirror, thoughtful and just a hint of darkness in it. 

“Imagine the reaction you’d get if you went out on stage in this,” Adam says, tugging on the neck of the shirt. It slips down past Tommy’s shoulder, letting Adam’s hand land on bare skin. Tommy knocks his hand away, rolling his eyes, and tugs the shirt back up.

“Yeah, imagine,” he says dryly, heaving himself up out of the chair and wandering out of the room.

 

He ends up wearing the shirt on stage. He doesn’t know exactly how it happened. He literally had his other shirt in his hand, but by the time he walked out on stage, he still hadn’t changed.

He notices the change in Adam’s behaviour immediately – he can’t take his eyes off of Tommy – but he doesn’t understand it until Fever.

It starts off like normal, with Adam coming down the stairs and wrapping an arm around Tommy’s shoulders.

The kiss, though. The kiss is different. The style is the same – because it’s Adam’s style, it’s how he kisses – but the intent is different. The intent isn’t to make the fans happy, isn’t to put on a show. 

The intent is to prove something to Tommy, but Tommy’s not exactly sure what it is.

Adam practically devours Tommy’s mouth, and it’s not like any stage kiss they’ve ever shared before. This is a real kiss, for all intents and purposes, with Adam’s hand on the back of his neck, slipping down the back of his shirt. It’s so real that Adam almost misses his next line.

_Oh_ , Tommy thinks, as Adam struts away. So that’s how it is.

 

He makes sure to stick close to Adam for the rest of the show, leaving himself available for Adam’s touch. And Adam does touch, running a hand through Tommy’s hair, leaning up against him, brushing his fingers against Tommy’s hand.

Tommy doesn’t get to touch back very much, though, and never longer than a few seconds.

He’s rewarded for his patience during the band intros. Adam stands behind him while Tommy starts his solo, and for a second Tommy thinks that’s going to be it.  
Then Adam’s hips are pressing into his back, and Tommy’s fingers fumble on the bass. He can feel Adam’s dick pressing into him, hard and heavy, even through multiple layers of clothing.

He fumbles even more when Adam’s hand slides up underneath his shirt, around to his front, and splays out on his bare stomach. The touch is practically electric, sending sparks of intensity through his body.

He looks over his shoulder at Adam, because this is shit that the audience can see, but Adam doesn’t seem to care.

He seems to care even less when he kisses Tommy again, more awkward this time because of the position they’re in, but just as intense as the last one, open mouthed and a little wetter than it really needs to be, but still just as good.

Adam pulls away with a little smirk, and Tommy goes back to his spot, but he’s pretty much made up his mind. He knows what’s going on here, and he knows how he wants to respond to it.

 

He doesn’t get to execute his plan for another week, but that’s okay, because it gives him time to get everything in place.

It also gives everyone else time to mock him for what he’s been doing, but that’s okay. It’s all good natured mocking, and he gets that everyone’s a little worried about what this can do to the dynamic of the group, but he’s pretty sure that things are gonna be more or less the same. The only way that he can see this going wrong is if he’s wrong about what Adam wants, and there’s no way that’s possible. There’s no way he could’ve misread the way Adam looked at him while he was wearing Adam’s shirt.

Fuck, the entire audience knows what that look meant.

It takes him a while to pick out the best outfit. There’s a lot of stuff in Adam’s wardrobe that would work, but the look he’s going for is harder to accomplish than he thought it would be – slutty but not obviously slutty.

He thinks about getting the girls to help him, but ultimately decides that this is something that he should probably figure out by himself.

He ends up with this sheer, shimmery white shirt that hangs halfway down his thighs and drapes down over his hands that he’s never seen Adam wear. He second guesses it the entire time he’s getting ready, because it might be more effective if he picked a shirt Adam wears more often, but he likes the way it looks, so.

He thinks about going bare underneath and making it really easy for Adam to strip him, but that’s really, really slutty, so he doesn’t.

Not that he’s not that slutty – he just doesn’t think that it’s appropriate for the first time. He doesn’t think Adam would mind, exactly, but there’s the tiniest chance that this could go wrong, and it’d be a lot less embarrassing if he was wearing boxers than nothing.

So he settles for wearing a pair of his own boxers underneath the shirt, rolling them up so they don’t show. It leaves almost the entire length of his legs bare, exposed to the cool air of the hotel room. The effect is pretty slutty, he has to say – he kinda looks like a girl from a movie who walks out of her boyfriend’s bedroom only wearing one of his shirts, going to the kitchen to get some coffee.

He roots through Adam’s jewelry and pulls out a few of his favourite pieces, just to complete the look, and then settles back to wait, legs arranged as artfully as he can manage on top of the blankets.

And then he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

 

He’s asleep by the time Adam comes in. The only reason he wakes up at all is because Adam drops a bag on the floor loudly, and for a second he doesn’t know what’s going on.

Then Adam flips on the lights, which Tommy had turned off because Adam was supposed to be back five hours ago, when it was still light outside, and they blink at each other for a few seconds.

“Hi,” Tommy says, clearing his throat. Adam’s gaze slides down his body slowly, taking in the shirt before hitting his thighs, and for a second Tommy wishes that he hadn’t put the boxers on, because fuck, that would’ve been hot, the bare expanse of his thighs exposed to Adam’s gaze.  
Adam’s gaze continues down his bare legs before returning to his face. “Tommy,” he says thickly, fingers twitching at his side like he wants to touch. 

“Adam,” Tommy says, purposefully making his voice as breathy as he can. Adam’s face twitches, and Tommy would bet everything he has that Adam’s wishing he was close enough to smack him.

“If this is a joke,” Adam starts, taking a couple of jerky steps towards the bed.

“This would be a terrible joke,” Tommy says, interrupting him. “I mean, why would I get all dressed up like this just to play a joke on you? It’d just be stupid.”

Adam sighs, taking another step forward, almost like he can’t help himself. “Why are you all dressed up?” he asks, gaze sliding back down to Tommy’s bare thighs.

Which is a little weird, because Tommy would’ve put all his money on Adam not being able to look away from his neck and collarbone area, but it’s a good kind of weird.

“Why do you think I’m all dressed up?” Tommy asks, letting his thighs part a little more. Adam groans and crosses the room in three long steps, leaning over Tommy on the bed.

He yanks Tommy’s boxers off before climbing up in between his thighs. “Would’ve been better without those,” Adam mutters, kneeing Tommy’s thighs apart a little further. 

“I fucking knew it,” Tommy says. “But I thought it’d make me look easy.”

“Mm,” Adam says, shoving a pillow underneath Tommy’s hips. “Not really any easier than you look right now.” He reaches into the bedside table and comes out with a bottle of lube.

Tommy watches him and thinks about how fast this is going.

Then he thinks about over a year of sexual tension, of eye fucking across a room, of flirty little touches and conversations filled with sexual innuendo. 

Maybe it’s not going so fast after all.

“I put in all this effort for you and you call me easy?” Tommy asks mildly. Adam laughs and puts both his hands on Tommy’s thighs, smoothing over the skin. 

Tommy’s dick is very interested in this turn of events.

“It’s definitely a beautiful effort,” Adam says. “I almost forgot that I even had this shirt.” His eyes slide up from Tommy’s collarbone to his mouth.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Just kiss me already, I know you’re dying to.” 

Adam’s hauling him up into his lap before he even finishes the sentence. “Fuck,” he says into Tommy’s mouth, teeth catching on Tommy’s lower lip. Tommy laughs, happiness spilling up out of his chest, and between that and the way Adam’s gripping the back of his neck, it’s probably one of the worst kisses of his life. Their mouths aren’t lined up properly, and Adam’s teeth catch on the corner of his lip.

It’s the best kiss of his life.

“This is just a test run, okay?” Adam mumbles into his mouth, shoving one hand down in between them. 

“You’re totally going to come in like three seconds, aren’t you?” Tommy asks. His breath hitches as Adam’s hand wraps around both their dicks.

“I am, but you’re going to come in two, so I’d say we’re about even,” Adam answers.

Tommy fumbles his hand down to join the cause, barely keeping himself upright with his arm around Adam’s neck. “I would’ve thought you’d want to fuck me in this,” Tommy says. For a second he wonders why his hand feels so much drier than Adam’s and then he realizes – the lube.

Duh.

“Oh, baby, there’s nothing I want more than that right now, but it ain’t happening until we take the edge off,” Adam says, fitting their mouths together again.

The kiss is much better this time. Adam’s teeth don’t catch on his lip, which is really the important thing, and it’s just wet enough for their tongues to slide together easily.

Adam doesn’t come from it, though, so Tommy pulls out all the stops – tightens his grip, doing that thing at the head he likes so much, slow drag up, quick thrust down.

It works. Adam comes after a minute, slicking up Tommy’s fist.

Instead of stopping, though, Adam knocks Tommy’s hand away and starts jerking him off faster. Tommy’s orgasm is still a comfortable distance away, hurtling towards him but not there yet.

And then Adam’s other hand nudges in between the cheeks of his ass and press firmly against his hole.   
Tommy jerks, hips lifting up before pressing back down, trying to get more of that delicious pressure.

“How long do you think it’d take you to come if I got a couple fingers in you?” Adam asks. Tommy clutches onto his shoulders and tries to decide whether he wants to push up into Adam’s fist or down onto Adam’s fingers.

It doesn’t matter, though, because Adam’s pressing a finger into him anyway, a little dry because he didn’t get more lube but sliding in easily enough. Tommy clutches tighter and wiggles his toes behind Adam’s back.

“Fuck, what the fuck are you doing, this isn’t fucking natural,” Tommy says, but he doesn’t try to lift his hips up to escape it.

And then Adam crooks his finger, hitting that awesome fucking spot deep inside his body, and Tommy comes.

By the time he’s done, Adam’s laid him on his back and divested himself of his jeans and t-shirt.

“I knew you’d have a thing for a boy in your clothes,” Tommy says, still catching his breath. Adam smiles down at him and tugs on the front of the shirt, exposing Tommy’s collarbone.

“How could I not when the result is this pretty?” he asks. Tommy smiles back at him and tilts his head up to be kissed.

 

Tommy steals another one of Adam’s shirts, a black long-sleeved one this time, and wears it the next day. Sasha and Neil make comments about it for a solid four hours, but Tommy just shrugs and smiles, because he doesn’t miss the way Adam keeps looking at him, undressing him with his eyes.

Tommy’s thinking that this could work out well for both of them.


End file.
